Sin or Spend the Night All Alone
by Masamune Reforged
Summary: Mello will have Matt and bend him to his desires, whatever the cost. Yaoi and smut. Dark, BDSM, not for the faint of heart.
1. Chapter 1

Sin or spend the night all alone

Masamune Reforged

a Death Note- Mello x Matt fanfic

Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note, nor Matt or Mello. The quoted song is "Me vs. Madonna vs. Elvis" by Brand New. I know, a crazy name for a song like this... I don't even like that band; but this song is absolutely awesome and made me write this.

Warnings: Yaoi (Mello x Matt, graphic, kinky lemon: bondage, rough S&M), angst, cursing, alcohol.

Author's Note: I take some liberties here with these two's pasts. All I know officially about it is that they were both potential successors to L at the same Wammy's house. I assume they knew each other when they were younger, but I do _not_ have them being close childhood buddies.

Song lyrics are encompassed in ...lyrics...

At the far, far, dirty, dingy, dark little corner of the bar, back near the doors that led down to the cellar and the roach infested kitchen. At the far back, where the lights are dead, back near the bathrooms where everyone squats to shit or piss in fear of catching some crippling disease from the unwashed toilets, where the smell reeks and you can almost hear the lingering echo of the guy screaming in the cellar while Sheff breaks his fingers one by one.

I sit back here because it's where I'm most comfortable. I sit here because I don't mind the stench of the toilets, because I don't care about the guy screaming in the basement. I sit back here because I can stare out at the people and they don't get a chance to stare back at me.

I drink a beer, a chocolate flavored dark lager, and watch the red-head at the bar.

**With one or two I get used to the room**

"Hey there," I approach.

"Hey."

"You okay there? Looks like you're not enjoying yourself much." I nod at his buddies, the group of laughing, stumbling, drunk idiots.

They notice me talking to him and start whispering, "Who is that blonde guy?" "What's up with his clothes?" "Why's he talking to Matt?"

It's enough to make the redhead try to brush me off. "I'm fine, thanks."

"Why aren't you drinking?" I press casually.

"Fuckin' broke, that's why," he's cute when he gets angry.

I slide into the bar stool next to him and look him dead in those sexy brown eyes of his. "Let me buy you a drink," I demand.

**We go slow when we first make our moves.**

"I said I'll be right back!" He shakes his head in frustration, letting the bar door slam behind him. Matt's friends don't seem to like us going outside together. "Jesus..." he mutters. Apparently he doesn't seem to like his friends much either.

"Smoke?" I offer him a cigarette.

"Nah, fuck," Matt waves me off as we walk out into the parking lot. It's freezing cold, the third week of January. "I got my own." He staggers slightly, patting at his pockets for the pack of cigarettes that won't be there. Realizing, "Ah, fuckin' A!"

"Here," I offer him the cigarette again, and he takes it this time, mumbling thanks.

We're at my car now, and as he lights his smoke, Matt takes a look at it, running a gloved hand over the front hood. He said he wanted to see it, the little technophile... It's a brand new, stolen sports car, fiery red like his hair, leather interior of course.

"Damn, it's the newest freakin' model," he whistles, impressed, as he should be. "This really yours?"

I pull out the keys and unlock the doors. "Wanna see the inside?"

We hop inside, and I can see him trying to hide his enjoyment. I gladly start the engine when he asks me too, and he starts playing with the GPS device while I give the engine some gas in neutral gear.

After three full minutes of him fiddling with the GPS, I lean over and ask him, "You're really into machines, huh?"

"Machines, computers, video games, anything with whirring parts and flashing buttons," he smiles goofily, still tinkering. "I'd rather spend the night playing with things like this than go out to some stupid bar or club."

"Wanna go for a ride then?" I offer, moving closer and putting a hand possessively on his knee.

Matt freezes and lets out a surprised breath. He turns and looks at me with surprised, beautiful, slightly blurred brown eyes. He barely manages to whisper, "I don't know..."

"You're cautious for someone who jumps into a stranger's car," I tease, taking my hand away. Maybe I moved too fast, too early...

"That's the thing; you don't feel like a stranger to me. I feel like I know you," Matt says bluntly. And he's right, of course. But it's been awhile, and I'm surprised he even recognizes me. Immediately, he blushes faintly and turns away, poking furiously at the GPS touch-screen. "Fuck. Forget it..."

"Sure." I let the silence hang in the air for a moment. Matt turns to me, sensing the silently building tension, his eyes looking at me expectantly, but warily. It's still too early, it seems, so I say, "Want to go back inside?"

**'Bout five or six, bring you out to the car**

He coughs and wretches slightly on the alcohol. Embarrassed, he puts a hand to cover his mouth, but it's too late. A tiny bit slips out and rolls down the side of those luscious, chapped lips, and it's all I can do to stop myself from leaning over and licking it off of him.

His friends are laughing and patting my back like we're all best of buddies from way back when. They're all wasted, thanks to Sheff and the fact that I can order a whole lake's worth of booze at this place and never have to pay a dime.

Matt's wasted too. He stumbles when he walks to the bathroom; and believe me, all I want to do is follow him back there, force my way into the cramped toilets, and fuck him stupid.

He gets back and I buy everyone another shot. This one he takes down without any problem.

He's smiling now, a pure, white, carefree smile. It's drunken happiness, but at least it's something. I catch him stealing longer and longer glances at me. I notice the way he leans his head in when I speak, how he listens with complete attention when I talk.

We play a drinking game and one of his friends pukes all over the floor. Matt looks up at me, grinning loopily. He's close now.

**Number nine with my head on the bar**

In the bathroom, letting the poisonous booze escape my body, I can't help but look in the mirror and reflect. I can't help but wonder, scrutinize and somewhat laugh at myself.

Bullying people with my fists, crushing them with blackmail, manipulating them with a gun against their temple, seducing them with alcohol, brute force; this is what I am. This is how I live now.

Sometimes I think back to easier, simpler times. I think about the orphanage and its fresh linen, the hot breakfasts, the toys, the teachers, the desserts... Learning about how to solve problems peaceably, how to better the lives of others... Living in that imitation world...

I look in the mirror and sneer, even though I'm young, sexy, rich and powerful.

I beat people's faces in until the skin on my knuckles tears. I smother them with their mistakes, affairs, mistresses, sins until they twitch and go rigid. I make them piss their pants and do my bidding until they screw up or I get bored of them; then I pull the trigger and splatter their cranium all over the place.

I feed them shots and beers until they can't say 'no'.

This is what I am now.

**And it's sad, but true**

I get the bartender's attention and whisper instructions to him. It's almost time to close up for the night. Some of Matt's friends are looking groggy; halfway between drunk and asleep. I have him too pumped up on liquor and caffeniated mixers to sit still.

Last call and everyone gets their bills. Although I don't need to pay a dime, the bartender hands me a list of all the stuff I bought anyway. It's partly to keep up appearances.

I pull out nearly a thousand dollars, just a hundred short of the total. I fake a frown that Matt will notice; and he does, coming over to me right away and asking me, "Is everything okay?"

I show him the bill, let him count the money for himself. Seeing the situation, he lets out a worried huff, worry at my expense.

I don't ask him, I don't even need to. Matt freely goes over to his friends. After a few minutes of bickering, negotiating, and more than a couple dirty looks past him in my direction, he comes back over to me. He slips five twenties in my hand, trying to be sly.

I hold his hand in mine, squeezing it tightly. "I owe you," I whisper. It makes him smile as if he'd just saved my life.

**Out of cash and I owe... (I got) you.**

More to come as soon as I can!

Hope you enjoyed.

Also, please do review / send feedback if you can; it means a great deal to me!


	2. Chapter 2

Sin or spend the night all alone

Masamune Reforged

a Death Note- Mello x Matt fanfic

Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note, nor Matt or Mello. The quoted song is "Me vs. Madonna vs. Elvis" by Brand New. I know, a crazy name for a song like this... I don't even like that band; but this song is absolutely awesome and made me write this.

Warnings: Yaoi (Mello x Matt, graphic, kinky lemon: bondage, rough S&M), angst, cursing, alcohol.

Author's Note: I take some liberties here with these two's pasts. All I know officially about it is that they were both potential successors to L at the same Wammy's house. I assume they knew each other when they were younger, but I do _not_ have them being close childhood buddies.

This one's for Ruby, and also to all the great people who reviewed and sent feedback. It really means a lot to me!

Song lyrics are encompassed in **...lyrics...**

Part Two

Matt's out of cigarettes again, and nobody wants to bum him any more. So we walk down the street from the bar, down to the little shitty hole in the wall store that's always open.

"So what do you do?" He wants to make small talk before I fuck his brains out. People generally want to know a bit about where you work or what town you're from before you stick your dick inside of them.

"Eh... Little bit of this, little bit of that. I'm in all sorts of things," I dodge the question.

Matt's smart enough to know I don't want to talk about it, so he asks something slightly different instead, "How bout what you want to do?"

The booze must be working on me too, because I answer without even thinking, the words rushing straight out of my mouth, "I want to be the best. I want to show the world that I'm the smartest, greatest, number one motherfucker there is, and I don't care if I have to step on people's toes to get there. I want to do whatever it takes to get me there." He's looking at me with something like awe, and I snidely add on, just at a whisper, "But, for starters, I'll settle on doing you."

His eyes and mouth open a little wider, but he doesn't look away.

**I got desperate desires and unadmirable plans**

It's fucking freezing, but there's a cop in the store and I don't feel like running the risk of dealing with the goddamn pigs right now. So I wait outside and watch Matt saunter up to the counter.

A nasty rope of wind gusts, making me grit my teeth and curse under my frosted breath. I hate being cold. Wearing leather makes me look like a sex god, but it's shit for keeping warm... Maybe I'll move to California...

Somehow I decide that all of this is Matt's fault; and by the time he gets out of the store I'm ready to cut the game short, stop with the bullshit and drinks, cut off his questions. I decide that what I really want is to wait until we're passing by a dark alleyway, drag him inside, and have my way with him, whether he's ready for me to or not.

"Sorry 'bout that," he mouths around a cigarette.

Before he lights it, I say, "Do you really need to fucking smoke so much?" He stops and lowers the gloved hand with the lighter in it. So I continue, "It's gonna give me fucking second hand smoke. And it'll make your mouth taste like an ashtray."

"Huh? Since when does it matter to you what my mouth tastes like?" Matt isn't playing dumb here. His brown eyes are challenging me, testing me. He goes to light his cigarette.

Before he can, I swat it out of his hand. Pushing him up against the wall of an abandoned building, I grab him by the jaw, tilt his head up, and kiss him.

It's a rough and savage kiss, just how I like them. Matt's lips open to my plunder immediately, and my tongue is on his instantly. He brings a hand up to my back, to pull me closer. I nip his bottom lip, suck on the top, and slide my leg in between his, leaning in and devouring him for all there is to be had. I claim him, and he is ever so giving. Wildly, frantically, minutes pass.

I can taste him; and I love it. The bitter flavor of ash and smoke is there, but to me it doesn't make the taste of him any less delicious.

**My tongue will taste of gin and malicious intent**

Finally, I pull away. Matt's breathing heavily and staring at me with those demanding brown eyes.

It's there. Now it's out in the open. It's his first consciously open step down the path I've been leading him all night. And from the look of it, from the still hungry glimmer in his eyes, he's more than willing to spiral down into the black abyss with me.

I decide I want more of him, and I move in to kiss him again. He takes a breath in anticipation.

But suddenly, involuntarily, Matt shivers. I stop, looking at him now. Besides the gloves, he's not dressed for the weather. His tight, striped, long-sleeved shirt makes him sexy as all get out, showing off his slim build and his taut muscles, but it looks thin as hell.

"You cold?" I ask, although it's obvious.

"No," he denies, then shivers, this time a sharper tremble. "Maybe a little..." I smirk.

"Let's go back to the bar."

**Bring you back to the bar, get you out of the cold**

Back at the bar, our absence has worn Matt's friends' patience thin. They grumble about us taking so long and say that they're going to leave. They've already called a cab.

Matt looks at me expectantly, waiting for me to tell him what to do.

"My friends want me to leave," he says timidly.

"Fuck them," I say loud enough for all to hear. Then, softly, "I want you to stay."

Matt's eyes say he wants to too. And I can't help but smirk as I watch him wordlessly turn away, go back to his friends, and try to explain to them that they'll be going on without him.

**A sober straight face gets you out of your clothes**

If looks could kill I'd be dead one time over for each of Matt's so-called friends. Waiting at the front of the bar, they whisper and gossip about us.

I have Matt back in my corner, way at the far, far back where the lights don't work. He's getting to that bad in-between state now, where the alcohol is starting to fade and his blind resolve with it. He's finally looking tired, and I decide that the first thing I'll do once his friends leave is secure a half bottle of gin just for us... and mostly for Matt...

I have an arm draped possessively around him, lounging in the booth chair that easily seats us both.

"I don't know about this," he murmurs to me as one of the girls gives us a particularly nasty glare.

"Why?" I ask. "You scared about what they're going to say about you? About what? That you went home with a guy? That you got drunk and ditched them for some stranger?"

"I never said I was going home with you," he says defensively.

"No." I lean in, staring him full on and gauging him. "You didn't need to. We both know how this is going to work." My mouth is an inch from his. "And how it's going to work is I'm taking you back to my place and fucking your beautiful ass until dawn."

Matt looks at me for a moment, suddenly looking afraid. He struggles to put some space between us, pushing away half-heartedly with an arm that doesn't really know how to fight, doesn't want to. I tighten my grip on his neck, making him gasp and struggle for real, how I like it.

I take my other hand and turn his face, and how willfully it turns, making him look at me. "And you know how this is going to work," I command him. "And your friends know. We all know. We all know you're coming back to my place, and that when I get you there I am going to strip you naked and then screw your tight little ass until you're screaming my name and begging for me to never stop. Your friends all know how I'm going to make you my bitch, my personal whore. And they know, like you know, that you're going to love it."

**And they're scared, that we know**

**All the crimes they'll commit**

One of Matt's friends comes up to us, a short blonde girl. Seems she saw the little tiff and decided to poke her piggy little nose into our business.

"I think Matt should come with us," she says, haughty little bitch.

"I don't think Matt wants to come with you," I shoot back coolly. "Isn't that right, Matt?"

He's looking down at the floor, but he nods slightly.

"No," the bitch keeps fighting. "No. He's drunk and he doesn't know what he's-"

"Listen, lady-"

"And you- you're forcing him to stay with you so that-"

"_Hey!"_ My words cut her down, and I let her know I mean business by standing up and looking down at her in her piggy little face, showing her just what kind of person she's dealing with. "He's with me because he wants to be. I'm not forcing him to do anything he doesn't want to."

"You- you-" the little piggy huffs and puffs.

Matt has stood up now, standing silently at my side. I turn to him and beckon him closer with a finger.

"Alright, Matt. If you want to leave, then get the fuck out with your piggy little friend here. Though I don't think you're stupid enough to not know that'll mean I'll never so much as give you the time of day if you do, let alone touch you. But, if you want to stay, then you'll come right up here and kiss me."

I pat my cheek, indicating where he's to offer his loyalty. I don't even look at him.

The piggy starts to squeal, "You fucking dirty, evil-"

But the pig never gets to finish, because right then Matt steps forward and obediently kisses me on the cheek; and outside a cab's horn blasts, all at the same time.

**Who they'll kiss before they get home**

-end part two

Well, this took me a bit longer than I thought... and gearing up for the Mello's "making Matt into his whore" is tougher than I expected. It might be a little bit longer until the next update, but I hope you enjoyed this one for what it is. It was pretty momentous, and even though it seems like Matt just fell obediently to Mello very quickly, it's been going on in the first part too, but more subtle than in this part...

I just always figured that these two would click right away if they ever were compatible.

Again, feedback is very much appreciated. Thank you for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

Sin or spend the night all alone

Masamune Reforged

a Death Note- Mello x Matt fanfic

Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note, nor Matt or Mello. The quoted song is "Me vs. Madonna vs. Elvis" by Brand New. I know, a crazy name for a song like this... I don't even like that band; but this song is absolutely awesome and made me write this.

Warnings: Yaoi (Mello x Matt, graphic, kinky lemon: bondage, rough S&M), angst, cursing, alcohol.

Author's Note: Again, I want to thank all the people who have been so wonderful. I never expected to get so many reviews and so much support. You've all been wonderful, and really have helped me push forward to complete this.

That being said, I must advise you, when I say "graphic, kinky lemon, bondage, rough S&M" I _mean it_! As most of you have learned by now, this is not a sweet, passionate love story. It is gritty, dark, twisted and perverse; and you can believe that the sex is going to be the same.

Song lyrics are encompassed in **...lyrics...**

Part Three

You might wonder why I'm like this; how I can be like this.

Doesn't it ever bother you, Mello, living this way? Treating people like this?

Doesn't it ever bother you, Mello, that you've never loved anybody? That you've never been loved?

Doesn't it bother you that,even this one- this one you might actually break your rule for- that you treat him like this?

Honestly, sometimes it does bother me; but only late at night, after it's been done.

Sometimes, when I lie down at night, after another dirty, rotten day of murder, fraud and empty sex, it does get to me. I lay there and can smell the sulfur from the guns, see their bloodied faces, taste their bitter saliva, feel their clawing arms, and hear their final, piercing scream.

Sometimes it keeps me up until the sun rises.

**I will lie awake **

But I have my own way of coping with these things. Like everything else, I can overcome them.

I remind myself that, in fact, those people are garbage. I remind myself that they were too pathetic to stand up to me, too stupid to not bow their heads to me. They wanted me to bring them home and make them into my sex toys. They deserve being treated like the trash they are. I am entitled to crushing them under my heel like bugs, because they are much like bugs to me.

I smile at the thought of all those I've crushed like that. I smile because the fact that they are dead, or cheated, or completely broken to my will, is testament to my superiority. I find some kind of bittersweet solace in their broken dreams, because their destruction is the realization of my own. In some twisted fashion that I subscribed to long ago, each life I destroy or take adds to my own.

I find I sleep best when I have someone else there in bed with me, anyone else. Instead of reflecting on the conquests and the troubling discontent reflection brings, I can conquer anew. Next to me is someone else to crush, someone else to bend to my power.

So, when I lie awake at night, I can just roll over and wake them up; sometimes with a surprisingly gentle shake that betrays the remorse, or with a rough shake to send them blinking awake in fear, or casually rolling them over onto their back or front to succinctly remind them that they've been awakened to satisfy my needs, or with a bone crushing stranglehold around their throats to send them into a futile, desperate battle for their lives.

It doesn't matter how I wake them anyway, the trash.

**Lie for fun and fake the way I hold you **

"Hey there, wake up. You know, I had such a good time before, I just can't get to sleep now... It was so good... So I was thinking, how about another go?"

And they shake off sleep, glad to be my willing whore.

"Wake up! No... it's me. Good. Now, you know what I want. Shh... No more protesting, get to it."

And they shake off their fear, glad to be my slave.

"That's right, you good for nothing slut. It's time to fuck that slutty pussy of yours again. Now get ready to take it."

And they shake off the indignation, glad to be my sex toy.

"Yeah, struggle- _struggle_, you worm! Fight! Fight me, or I'm going to kill you! Come on, you piece of trash! Can't you even fight back? I'll make you cum before you die, you worm."

And they shake off the world of life, because it was my will.

**Let you fall for every empty word I say. **

It's dark here too, and cold. The heater hasn't worked right since I chained that college student to it... I smile at the memory and flick on the foyer light, throwing light and shadow on the dirty doormat, the mahogany coat hanger, the brass knobs of the closet, the plush carpet leading to the bedroom.

Behind me there is a thump and then a wooden bang, and I know Matt has just fallen against the apartment door, knocking it against the wall.

"Fuck! Fuckin' stairs! Why've you got to live on the top floor of a place that don't have an elevator?"

I don't turn around, but can picture Matt leaning up against the door for support, looking for some kind of response from me. I ignore him, walking into the kitchen instead.

"Hey!" he yells, then, when I don't respond, softer, "Hey? Hey, Mello, you got some water in there? I ... ugh, I think I drank too much..."

I know that what Matt's saying is true, but he'll get no sympathy from me. I think back to the bar, to just after his friends had left. After telling Sheff to lock up, I'd gone behind the bar and gotten a high proof bottle of gin, pouring both of us a large shot of it, then mixing more in two glasses with some grenadine and lemon. Matt had sat quietly at the bar, watching me, only slightly raising an eyebrow when I pushed the glass I'd poured the most gin into in front of him. I stared him down in a way that eliminated any possibility of him saying something about it.

"Fuck!" Matt curses as I hear him stumble on the shoe-rack in the foyer, then kick at it. I make a note that I'll have to teach him to handle my belongings with more respect in the future.

Matt had stayed quiet for almost all the rest of the time at the bar. Sure, he'd made a few sputtering noises when he choked down his third shot. He'd cursed and made a face when he tasted how strong his drink was. He'd even started rambling on about how my feeding him all this booze bordered on date-rape, but one icy glance was all it took to have him swallow the rest of his words.

"Hey, you got any water in here?" He's leaning against the kitchen doorway now.

He'd stayed quiet- angry and quiet, until I'd finally told him it was time to leave. He'd looked at me with a face like a snarling, misbehaving dog, and I'd slapped him across the face hard enough to almost draw blood. After that, he actually did snarl, but looking at me then, had thought better of it, and followed me outside to my car.

"Get it yourself," I tell him, pointing to the faucet.

And he'd drunkenly curled up against me on the ride home.

**Barely conscious in the door where you stand **

"Huh? The fuck? How 'bout showing some goddamn hospitality? You treat all your guests like this?"

I turn to him now, still leaning up against the kitchen door frame. "Oh? And I thought guests weren't supposed to make such snotty demands of their hosts?" Finished faking disdain, I drop the mocking tone and say, "Besides, you're not my guest; you're just my toy."

Matt laughs, saying, "Your toy huh? Yeah, yeah, I remember you sayin' something like that. Yeah, your little sex toy, right? Isn't that what you said?"

He's able to give me lip, but hardly able to stay on his feet. Without the doorframe for support, he'd probably be staggering, struggling just to stand.

"You remember what I said," I tell him. "Don't make me repeat myself."

"Yeah, I remember," Matt shoots back, still full of sass. "Something about fucking my ass until dawn, right? Was that it? Or was it until I screamed and shot off all over the both of us?"

I look forward to beating it out of him. And I say nothing, just looking at him instead and wondering if his lean frame will be able to take it. I've broken so many others...

"Yeah, you said you were going to strip me naked and tie me down, then fuck my randy little ass until I scream your name. Isn't that what you said you'd do?"

His eyes are blurred, tired and drunk, but demanding and fiery.

"Turn me into your personal little slut, make me love it."

He shivers slightly from the lingering cold, unaware of even doing it as he stares at me demandingly through eyes that threaten to shut. Matt barely keeps them open, barely keeps himself on his feet.

"Right? Ain't that right?" he asks. "So, you going to do it, or what?"

**Your eyes are fighting sleep while **

**Your mouth makes your demands **

The kitchen joins onto the living room, which is still bathed in darkness. I head towards it, beckoning with a finger for Matt to follow. I stop next to the big-screen TV, on the wall with the shelves and furniture that house the electronics, guns and explosives. I turn to make sure Matt is watching, leaning forward on the counter dividing the kitchen from the living room. I keep my eyes on him as I open a drawer.

"What I'm going to do..." I start to say, rummaging through the drawer briefly before finding what I want.

It is dark in this room, but the moon and the city lights streaming in through the large glass window give enough light.

"...is take this..."

I hold up a small, half used plastic tube. It's light enough to barely see, dark enough to not see all.

"...this heating gel, and smear it all inside of your slutty little ass. It'll get quite warm, just so you know, and you'll probably be squirming and begging to let me flush it out within minutes."

"Oh yeah?" Matt shoots back defiantly.

I put the lube down on top of the drawers, pulling out the next item, a long, silk string with beads fastened to it in a row of size order; the smallest tinier than a dime, the largest as big as a soda can.

"Then I'll take these beads and feed them into you. And I'll pull them out one at a time, slow enough to keep you hard and leaking, but not fast enough to give you release."

"Oh yeah?" Matt shoots back defiantly.

I put the beads down next to the lube, pulling out a large, studded dildo. It is recently used, and I can still smell the sweat and the dried fear from the last boy on it. The plastic studs are rigid, and will roughly grate along the inner walls rather than bend against the resistance.

"And then I'll take this dildo and shove it into your ass, and fuck you with it until you're begging for my cock; which is quite a bit bigger, I'll tell you."

"Oh yeah?" Matt shoots back defiantly, but his eyes are wide now, riveted on the dildo.

I set it down and pull out a pair of handcuffs and a length of rope. Walking over towards him, I notice that Matt moves up off from the counter he's been leaning on, backing away slightly. I set the cuffs and rope down directly where his hands were.

"And I will cuff your hands behind your back, so that you won't be able to touch yourself, no matter how much you want to. And I'll splay your legs apart and tie them to the bedposts, so that you'll be spread wide open for me like the whore you are."

"Oh yeah?" Matt shoots back, turning to me as I pass him.

I go to the stove and turn one of the dials on. Reaching up, my rock-hard dick presses against the counter, before I pull down a large vat and an open cooking pot. I pour some of the vat into the pot, until it is almost full of the yellowish liquid. I show it to Matt, explaining:

"And I will take this wax and pour it on every sensitive spot on your body. Your fingers, your toes, your kneecaps, you nipples, your cock; I'll cover them all. And you'll just have to howl and wriggle uselessly while it happens."

I turn the dial all the way up, the flames roaring up from the stove, then set the pot down on top of it.

Matt shoots back, much less defiantly now, "...Oh yeah?"

And before turning from the stove, I pull out a large, serrated carving knife.

I hold it in my palm, slowly advancing towards Matt, explaining, "And I will cut you wherever I please, sometimes shallow, sometimes deep. I'll cut you while I fuck you, and you'll scream and yell and buck and try to fight, which is just fine with me. And I'll draw the blood until you're lightheaded, and fuck you until you're delirious with lust. And I'll cut you deeper and have you scream from the pain, and fuck you harder so you scream from the pleasure; and when you finally do cum you won't know which it was that pushed you over the edge."

I'm directly in front of Matt now, and swiftly bring my arm up. He is too stunned with fear, too drunk with anticipation to move, and the tip is at his throat before he can even flinch.

**You laugh at every word **

**Trying hard to be cute **

Mattt takes a deep gulp of air involuntarily, Adam's apple bobbing and nicking the knife, but not enough to draw blood. I reach up, and he does flinch this time, backing away, futilely pressing up against the counter. I take the one step left to close the gap, keeping the knife floating in his sight, reaching out again with my other hand.

I remove his goggles from his forehead, throwing them casually behind him, somewhere in the living room. He hadn't worn them once all night, but the message should be clear. It is time to see this for what it really is. This is the moment of truth, and I want him to know all of it down to the last gory detail.

I tilt the knife and bring it up against his throat. Matt freezes. The blade is flush with the skin of his neck now, and I drag it slowly upwards, bristling and raking against his vulnerable flesh with the serrated teeth. It will not cut him, but will set his nerve ends on fire. He lets out a slow, petrified breath, keeping his neck stiff and unmoving.

There is no playing games here. There is no talking shit. There is no safe word. There is no limit.

"I am not joking," I say, my tone reinforcing my words. "I am deathly serious."

Matt's brown eyes are wide and awake now, not free of fear, but with more than a tangible hint of interest burning darkly behind them. He cannot nod to show that he understands; but, then again, I don't really need him to. Even a dog understands the spectre of death. Even the most wasted drunkard will be sobered by the edge of a knife.

"I am going to hurt you," I tell him softly, nearly in a whisper. "I am going to abuse you, make you suffer. I will make you scream in terror; I will have you crying in pain.

Matt says nothing, makes no movements; so I continue, "I am going to fuck you without any regard for your body. I am going to use you for my enjoyment and my enjoyment alone. I am going to fuck you whether you like it or not. Even if you fight, I will just beat you down, tie you up, and rape you anyway."

Matt says nothing, makes no movements; so again I continue, "This is how I like it, Mail; this is what I am now. I take what I want, and I take it however I want to. You are no exception. I don't care if you like it or not, or if you say 'no' or not. You're mine now, and I will treat you as I please."

Matt says nothing, makes no movements. Pressing up against him, I can feel his rock-hard sex pushing out from his jeans, can feel his slow, tattered breaths on my face. I can see far, far down into his eyes, down into the very bottom of him.

Somehow, I expected him to resist... or to say something... or...

I didn't expect this.

But there is no turning back now, I remind myself, looking Matt in the eyes so that he will know this too. He says nothing, makes no movements, just stares back at me.

And so I clutch him by the shirt, pull him forward, and hungrily kiss him.

**I almost feel sorry for what I'm gonna do **

-end part three

Well, finally got this out too... Faster than I'd expected too. I had some trouble with the transitions, and I realize it's sudden that they're back at Mello's out of nowhere, but I felt there wasn't much more to do at the bar that couldn't be covered in the brief flashback in this chapter. I also had a hard time trying to cover the essential setting descriptions while keeping the pace of the mounting lemon (which will begin in full force in the next part, trust me.

As I said, if you don't think I'll have Mello do those things to Matt, or at least something on the same level, or if you don't think you'd like to read such things, I advise you don't read the next chapter. Indeed, this goes beyond the realm of 'erotic' and well into the 'perverse', but it is how I imagine a sexual relationship to be between these two.

Although, I do honestly hope you enjoyed this part, as well as what is to come.

-masamune reforged


	4. Chapter 4

Sin or spend the night all alone

Masamune Reforged

a Death Note- Mello x Matt fanfic

Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note, nor Matt or Mello. The quoted song is "Me vs. Madonna vs. Elvis" by Brand New. I know, a crazy name for a song like this... I don't even like that band; but this song is absolutely awesome and made me write this.

Warnings: Yaoi (Mello x Matt, graphic, kinky lemon: bondage, rough S&M), angst, cursing, alcohol.

Author's Note: I apologize for the long delay. Sometimes there's just no room in life, even for kinky fanfiction. Thank you all for patiently waiting. I hope you like it. Also, thank you to ZaKai Stonewall, whose sultry FMA smut-fic "Blind Obsession" really helped give me some great ideas for this scene.

Song lyrics are encompassed in **...lyrics...**

Part 4

I kiss him, and his lips part to let out the fearful breath that the knife inspired. The fear is something I can almost taste, the excitement something flowing up through him that I can almost feel in my hands, clutching his shirt. His lips are chapped, and I gnaw on them with my own until I can taste just the faintest hint of blood.

I let the knife drop to the floor where it clatters loudly on the tile. I turn Matt's attention away from it, and back to me–where it should be–by taking my hand and roughly grabbing his crotch. I rub my hand on his rock hard sex through the fabric of his pants, eliciting a small moan from him that lets me plunge even deeper into his mouth. He tastes like gin and godless perversion.

His breath is heavier now with me rubbing his dick through his pants. I trail my hand up and away from there, silencing what might have been a protesting groan with a less than gentle nip on his already bruised lips.

I can feel the slightly muscled, hard flesh of his abs through his thin shirt; and I know it will be perfectly smooth, without an ounce of fat, once the shirt is gone. I give a rough pinch of his nipple, already hard from the cold, or from excitement. Something like a 'yes' is murmured against my lips as I twist the stiff nub roughly.

I'd hoped that he wanted it rough. He'd hinted that he did, but now I knew.

I bring my other hand up from the back of his neck, balling it into a fist in his shimmering red hair. I tilt his head back slightly like this, by the roots of his hair, and he murmurs something again and kisses me in return, harder than he ever has.

The blood from his chapped lips tastes like liquid metal. His hair smells like the wooden hollowness of freshly burning smoke.

**And your hair smells of smoke **

As suddenly as I started it, I break the kiss off, watching with a sense of satisfaction as Matt's eyes fly open at my sudden absence. I put a hand on his chest and push away from him.

He looks at me expectantly, and I tell him to give me the handcuffs on the counter behind him. He does, and watches as I twirl them on one finger, beginning to walk away from him now and back towards the foyer, back towards the bedroom.

"Come," I say to him.

And, without a word, he does.

This makes me chuckle to myself as I flip on a light switch in the hallway leading from the foyer to my bedroom. Perhaps it is this, or perhaps it is something completely different, but Matt suddenly stops a few feet behind me. I turn to him.

"You're a real bastard, you know that?" he says in a voice that is both neutral and sincere. His eyes look at me without contempt, without judgment. "You're the worst kind of bastard."

Perhaps because he says this without contempt, without judgment, because he says it with an effortless honesty, as a simple, natural declaration of the truth, that it stuns me. I don't know if I can say I feel hurt or surprised.

But then I suddenly do feel something, and it is fiery hot and has driven me to kill with my bare hands.

"You're no better," I snap back, my words dripping with venom and judgment and contempt that he dare make this accusation against me. "You're just as much a bastard as I am."

Now Matt smiles. He says, "Maybe. But having a second snake as a pet won't make you any less of one yourself."

I walk the few steps back down the hall towards him now. My answer is, "I don't care. I don't care, so long as I'm the snake in charge."

Without warning, I surge forward and strike a fist square into Matt's gut. I see his eyes bulge, hear his breath whoosh out from his chest. He crumbles to the floor and I stand over him.

"So remember whose snake you are."

**Who will cast the first stone? **

Matt gags slightly, finally getting a breath. I smirk and step over to his front.

"Agh– gh– Fuck–" he coughs. "Shit– What the hell'd you do that for, you fucker?" Matt chokes out painfully.

I shake my head, cock my leg, and kick him dead in the stomach.

This time a string of spit, not obscenities, ropes out of his mouth and onto the carpet. Matt gags and wretches heavily, eyes screwed up in surprise, pain, and glorious fear. He clutches his ribs, coughing and retching so hard that I wouldn't be surprised if he puked.

I step over him again, turning him over onto his back with my foot. I wear boots with steel tips, and if I'd wanted to, I'd have broken every single rib in that skinny, sexy body of his.

I take that steel tipped boot and nudge his hands away from his stomach. Matt doesn't resist, and his hands fall limply to his sides as he looks up at me with bleary submission and a silent plea to not kick him again.

I gently rest the heel of my boot on his crotch, rubbing his still rock hard erection with the heel.

"I did it because I wanted to," I answer him calmly, "and because you wanted it too. Look at you, popping wood from getting beaten up! You can't tell me shit about who's a bastard." I look down at him, watching his expression as he catches his breath and tries to will the pain away.

After a minute, I grab him by the arm and pull him up roughly. When he has his feet somewhat under him, I finally drag him into the bedroom.

**You can sin or spend the night all alone. **

I turn on the lights, throwing the handcuffs onto the king-size bed. I prefer it with the lights on; I like to see every little detail, every tiny sign.

Matt has his feet under him now, standing fixed in the middle of the room. I approach him and grab his chin, tilting his head before leaning in and giving him a brief, savage kiss. This time, though, he gives me no response.

I brush this setback aside, knowing full well I will have plenty of noisy, sweaty, convulsing responses from him later. Instead, I decide it's time to get him out of those clothes.

The first thing to go is his vest, and, as I tear it off of him, he only turns slightly to not have his arm ripped off along with it. Wearing just his tight fitting, striped, long sleeve shirt now, Matt's lean frame is too much to resist. I run my hands up and down his chest, to his abs, back up to his chest. He's looking me in the eye with the deadest, most even lack of emotion I've ever seen on anyone who has realized what I have in store for him.

I bend down and snap out the pop-out knife that I keep on my boot. Matt sees it as I flick it open, but doesn't even blink. He does take in a quick breath as I suddenly slash the blade upwards. It cuts a perfect line up the front of his shirt. I rip the rest of it open, exposing his bare, pale flesh to my eyes for the first time.

I decide it will not be the last time.

I dispose of the rest of Matt's clothing, courtesy of the knife and years of training myself with it. Despite his tight clothing, I do not cut him. Not yet, at least. All that remains are his briefs, and they are tented straight out. Even though he's hard and wants this, Matt stares at me with that same, dead, blank gaze.

It is not an angry gaze, but a scrutinizing one. Being almost buck naked in front of a fully dressed man about to dominate him does not seem to faze him at all.

"Now take mine off," I tell him. He moves forward and raises his hands, but I take a step away and shake my head, saying, "No, no, no. Pets don't get to use their filthy paws." I grab him firmly by the jaw again, spreading his gums so that his white teeth are barred like fangs. "Use your mouth."

This gets a toothy sneer from Matt, but he doesn't say anything. Instead he takes a step forward and leans forward in towards my chest, starting on the zipper of my leather jacket. After a minute and several different angles, he has the zipper clenched between his teeth, pulling it down so I can casually shrug it to the floor. He goes to start on the shirt, which is physically impossible with just his mouth, but I tell him to leave it by pushing him down on to his knees.

Matt knows what to do. The buttons on my leather pants prove difficult for him, and by the time he has unmade them all using just his teeth, tongue and lips, he is panting slightly, red hair askew from pressing against my leg. His entire jaw is wet with his spit, as is his brow with a forming layer of sweat. Not once during the ordeal did he pause, and I reward him by brushing off a dangling bead of saliva from his chin with my gloved hands.

My pants are wet with his spit too, and I wipe them off on his hair.

**Brass buttons on your coat hold the cold, **

**In the shape of a heart that they cut out of stone**

I do not wear boxers or underwear, and as I kick off my pants, leaving just my black shirt and gloves, my sex swings in front of Matt's face. Whether it is this sight or the taste of leather, Matt licks his lips, making me smile.

"Soon," I promise him. "You'll get your treat soon enough."

He doesn't seem to like this, and glowers at me dubiously, angrily. I imagine working on taking my clothes off without the help of his hands for the past half hour has worn his patience thin.

"Stand up, slut," I command him. And he does, but his face darkens further into a snarl at the word. Strangely enough, he seemed to love this dirty talk back at the bar, and I wonder if his anger now is some kind of act. Is he provoking me? _Me?_

"Now what?" he dares to ask.

I answer him by shoving him backwards onto the bed, not caring that he's far enough away to not fall completely onto the mattress, hitting his lower back hard on the foot of the mahogany bed frame.

I turn away and grab a small bottle of lube from a dresser near the closets. Matt has pulled himself up onto the bed's linen now, and catches it when I throw it to him. "Go ahead and start loosening yourself up," I tell him.

I consider this to be quite nice of me. I hate getting lube on my gloves, and the alternative is quite painful... although not for me... I turn away again and bend down to retrieve some 'tools' from one of the three boxes in the closet, the one in between the box of chocolate bars and the box of firearms.

I only get the chance to grab one of the large dildos when something hits me in the back. It's the bottle of lube, and the thrower is sitting up on the bed and glaring at me.

Rather than lose my cool, I stand up straight and tell him, "You know, I don't have a problem using your blood instead; but even your slutty ass is going to need something to take me all the way."

I stalk over to the bed. Matt's still looking at me with that composed, defiant contempt, and it's beginning to piss me off. I somehow have gotten the handcuffs in my hand again, and twirl them absentmindedly as I wait for his apology. When nothing but that same old, dead look comes from him, my anger flares a bit more.

"I don't need the foreplay, Matt," I tell him, standing over him now and twirling the handcuffs. "I'll rape you dry, if that's what you want." My cock twitches at the idea, even though it's absurd. It would never fit... "If you apologize, maybe I'll give you a second chance."

Always slightly angry, slightly angry and bored. That pretty face of his doesn't seem to change much. He sat at the bar with it, together under my arm in the far back corner with it, in the kitchen staring at the sex toys with it. That same fucking face...

I want to see that face stretching in fear. I want to see it brimming with lust. I want to see it twist and contort as he cries out in pain.

Before I know it, I bring the still-twirling handcuffs up. With a vicious, unrestrained violence, I lash out and crack them across his face. He falls backwards onto the bedsheets.

Matt's face does change. Now it has blood trickling slowly from a nasty cut on the side of his head. The expression, regrettably, is still the same.

**You're using all your looks that you've thrown from the start **

I have his hands tied behind his back now, on the floor in front of me, on his knees, blindfolded. The blindfold is a heavy, but soft, satin material, and there is no way Matt can see anything now. Finally I take off my shirt, revealing what is a jagged and ugly scar running over my left breast, a souvenir from my first, and only, unsuccessful attempt to break into the mafia underground.

I step in front of him and raise my boot to right underneath his chin, so that he can feel it. Matt bows his head slightly, as if already knowing what I am going to ask of him, but then stops. I lower my foot to the ground, next to his knee.

"Kiss it," I tell him, "but stay on your knees." Matt bends forward awkwardly, arching. He's so skinny that the small bones of his spinal cord are clearly visible under his skin. He kisses the boot, completing the ritual, and raises his head expectantly. "Now," I say, dropping my voice so that it is heavier than my twenty one years of age, "show me how much you want to be my slut."

Matt does not move for a moment, considering how best to meet this order. Finally, he scoots forward slightly on his knees, bending over again and placing yet another kiss on the toe of my boot. Then another, slightly above it, and another above that, and a third, and a fourth, faster and more frantically, leaving small, tiny, shimmering sheens in a trail up the leather.

Matt reaches the high top of the boot, a few inches below my knee. He pauses, licks his lips. Then, with renewed vigor, he shuffles forward and begins to kiss the flesh just above the cut of the boot. His lips are wet, but hardly qualify as soft, chapped and abused by the cold weather and his subjugation to my foot. But it is still a pleasant sensation, and I let out a long breath through a smile as I watch Matt, bound and blindfolded, slowly work his way up past my knees, kissing me reverently every centimeter of the way.

He reaches my thigh, turning his head to lick and suck at the muscled flesh. He trails his tongue over my skin as if it were a delicious treat, and alternates between kissing and sucking softly until he reaches my groin. He lets out a weakened, hungry breath, and leans forward further, taking my balls into his mouth and tonguing them with fast, stabbing lashes, pushing his nose deep into my crotch, forced to inhale my scent.

The constant attention to this area begins to work its magic on my sex, making it swell larger and wider, until it is at half mast and brushing against the side of Matt's head. I reach down and pat it against him, smearing my first traces of pre-cum over his cheeks, marking him as my own.

He instinctively opens his mouth and makes blind attempts to lean forward and take me inside. Matt, as it turns out to my pleasure, is a voracious cock hound. I tease him, slapping him a few times on either side of the face with my growing swell, leaving small, wet marks. Finally, Matt gets lucky and, moving his head just in time, catches the front of my sex in his mouth. He latches on, scooting forward eagerly and trying to take it all in his mouth. Looking down, I can't help but smile at the obscene sight of my large, long, uncut cock just beginning to disappear into his willing, oh so wet mouth.

Matt runs his tongue up and down the small portion of my almost fully inflamed cock, occasionally switching to flitting it over the sensitive flare of the head. His reward is an increase in the issuance of my pre-cum, more precious than most men's blood. I take up that red hair of his in a fist, pulling him further down my length until I can feel Matt begin to gag on it, throat constricting involuntarily around me.

I imagine that behind the blindfold his eyes are begging me to stop, silently pleading with me to be gentle. It's too much for me to resist and, although I know it probably will take away some of the excitement, I reach up and quickly undo the blindfold. I want to see those beautiful brown eyes.

The blindfold falls to the floor. Matt's eyes do not disappoint.

I take my other hand and grab him firmly by the neck, thrusting my hips forward at the same time. Like a hot, velvet glove, the slick muscle of Matt's throat grips my cock as I push it all the way down into him. He chokes for real this time, bound arms twisting uselessly behind his back, tear stained eyes begging in futility for me to stop. Around the impossible girth of my cock he manages only to elicit an inaudible groan and a string of drool.

I can feel frantic streams of breath issuing from Matt's flaring nostrils. He's adjusting now, and although a few tears began to leak from the corners of his eyes, there's no doubt that that helpless plea for me to stop is no longer in them. He can't help but cry, even though he's most likely prepared for far worse. Being used as a sex toy for a sadist's pleasure is one thing, but a log of hard cock blocking air from reaching your lungs is another.

Slowly, slowly, I began to back my rock hard sex out of Matt's mouth, each inch emerging covered in a gleaming shine of spit and mucus. When only the very flare of my head is resting on his tongue, I twist Matt's head violently by his hair again and thrust straight back into the hilt. This time he does not protest, and the frantic breaths from his nose show me he is making the adjustment.

Again and again I repeat this, pulling out slowly only to impale Matt's beautiful crying face on my sex, steadily building a faster and faster pace. Positively face-fucking Matt, I begin to leak a steady stream of pre-cum down into his bruised gullet. I look down at him and can't help but feel a thrill surge through me as I use this brilliant, sexy thing as my toy. A mess of saliva and pre-cum from the pool forming on Matt's chin drips heavily down onto his naked knees. His cheeks are fiery crimson from a lack of breath, and his eyes are shut in concentration.

After awhile, I decide that I want something different. Still gripping the back of Matt's head, I begin to squat, pulling him forward, bringing him with me, my cock still embedded deeply down his throat. Matt begins to shuffle forward, but I slap him on the cheek and say, "Stay kneeling." I squat all the way down, pulling Matt's head forward so that his back is arched out in front of me, ass in the air and his hips wobbling to keep balance.

"I didn't say you could stop sucking, did I?" I ask, making him resume his duties with renewed vigor. Despite the strain from the uncomfortable position, Matt begins to bob his head up and down my length, even to the point of deep throating me on his own. I knew he'd be a fast learner.

With Matt pleasuring me of his own accord, I release his hair and reach out, running my hands over his pale white back and up to his behind. I dig my nails into the toned, but still soft flesh, spreading him apart lewdly. With my other hand, I take a finger and press it against his rosebud entrance. The resistance is beyond firm.

"You suck cock like a pro, but you seem to be pretty tight back here," I say aloud. "Could it be that you've never let anyone fuck you before?" He answers with something that resembles an affirmative, and it makes me grin as I run my fingers over the nearly quivering ring of muscle. "Well isn't that rare?" I muse. "Most boys need to be fucked a ton of times before they figure out that they're hopeless whores who just want to be treated as slaves, but you knew even before you gave away your cherry?"

Gripping his buns apart with one hand, I begin to ruthlessly slide a finger inside of Matt. It takes a good amount of pressure before I can slide it in. Not wasting a second, I begin to add a second finger, causing Matt to groan in protest, sending a chord of pleasant vibrations around my cock and only encouraging me to molest his ass with deeper, rougher stabs.

"I don't care if you saved yourself for me or whatever, Mail," I warn him. "I'm going to fuck you my way, and it's going to hurt." I twist and spread apart the fingers that are buried inside of his quivering hole, stretching him in preparation. "Usually I wouldn't even bother touching you. Usually I would just spear you bloody without any of this foreplay bullshit."

His hole is impossibly tight, and the few millimeters I can wriggle my fingers are hard fought.

"But, with you, I don't think I'd be able to even get halfway inside with this tight ass of yours. Oh, I'd rip you apart and get off to your screams, but I wouldn't be able to get all the way inside of you; I wouldn't be able to fuck you properly. Most boys can't take me all the way on their first time, you know."

I roll my fingers up and around inside of him, and there it is. Like a dog crashing into an invisible electric fence, Matt's whole body suddenly stiffens, his legs bucking so that he nearly loses his balance, his hole squeezing me tighter than ever before. I smile at this, and the second time I massage his prostate with my forefinger, I can feel him moan in pleasure around my rock hard sex.

I manage a third finger inside of him, but barely past the first knuckle and it will go no further. I stop and reach down, taking him by the chin and raising him up to look at me straight in the face. His face is a mess, drying blood in a slight arc under the cut near his eye, brow covered in sweat, lips puffed and covered with a mess of pre-cum. Still, I can't help but think how beautiful he is.

"But you, Mail, you, I want to be all the way inside of tonight. You, I want to fuck properly, with everything I have, until you're crying out my name and begging me."

"Do you want to know why? Why I'm doing all this for you?" I ask him. When he doesn't say anything, I add, "It's alright, you can speak. Tell me, why do you think I'd lower myself to actually touch you there, to actually prepare you so I can fuck you properly?"

After a moment, Matt whispers, "I don't know." He looks away from me, down to the floor.

I raise his chin up to look me in the eyes and say, "It's because you want it too, Mail."

A string of puzzled emotion plays out across Matt's face until I stand and beckon him to do the same. I lead him forward until he is standing in front of the bed. I take a deep breath.

"They all _think_ that they want it too, you know," I begin. "They think they know what's in store for them– the one's I give a choice to– and that they'll be able to deal with it. They _think _they'll enjoy it too, that it will be like what they're used to, what _they _want. Oh, they want to please me. Of course they do."

I smirk at the way he looks at me and push him backwards onto the bed.

"They look at me and think they'll do whatever it takes, whatever I want. They start to convince themselves that, no matter how bad it gets, that they'll be fine with it, because it's what _I _want."

I look down at him and pause, wondering if he's following, if I'm even making sense. He gives a small nod, as if I needed his permission to continue, and it makes me want to laugh. I reach down and mess his hair playfully, putting a knee on the bed and making it so that I'm hovering over him.

"But, Matt, they don't want it, and, in the end, it always ends the same way."

I stroke the side of his face tenderly, then I scrape at his cut so it begins to bleed again.

"Even the ones that come here willingly end up fighting to get away."

I caress the slight muscle of his pecs, then I twist at his nipple so he bites his lip in pain.

"They all end up unable to handle it, unable to handle me."

I rub his rigid erection, then squeeze it until more tears come to his eyes.

"They think they want to please me, but they don't have any insight into what that means. They think they can cope, but they never expect it to be so painful. They think they want me, but they don't have any idea who I am."

I tear his skin open so that the blood oozes.

I twist his nipple until it threatens to tear off.

I squeeze and pulls his most sensitive area until he passes out.

I look down at him for a moment. Then, almost idly, I look around until I spot what I need, over in the corner near the closet. When I am sitting back on the bed again, Matt is still passed out cold.

An uncompromising slap wakes him well enough. On auto-pilot, he begins to curse and fight me, but I bat away his punches and put a finger over his mouth to silence him. His brown eyes register who he is looking at, where he is, and he shivers. In front of his face I am holding a large, studded dildo.

"It's because you're not like all the others," I tell him. "You don't want the same things I do just because that's what will please me. _You_ want it too. Isn't that right?"

Matt nods. I stand up from the bed and show him the dildo, kicking apart his legs at the same time. He seems to realize what is going to happen.

I don't need to, but I say, "It's only going to go further from here. It's going to start by me opening you up with this toy. It's going to hurt like hell." I pause and gaze down at him. How is it that he still seems ready for all this?

Grabbing one of his long legs, I raise it high up until it's resting on my shoulder, scooting him closer towards me. Then I grip his hips, pressing the tip of the sex toy up to his flesh. He's breathing hard now, and inciting me with those imploring brown eyes of his.

"Do you think you're up for it?" I ask, stabbing forward roughly with the rubber cock.

Matt lets out a strangled cry, throwing his head back and grimacing. His leg, up on my shoulder, kicks wildly and his body squirms in protest, but I have a firm hold of him. I tighten my grip on his bony pelvis, his slight abs fully outlined as he takes deep, ragged breaths.

"Oh? But that's barely one inch," I mock him, twisting the dildo so the little bit in him rotates, the rubber studs grating heavily against his insides. He groans and arches again, but this time it's not so much out of pain.

I stop and leave him like this. Quickly, Matt's eyes flash at me, and he says, "M-more."

I lean forward, lazily twisting the dildo back and forth inside of him. I kiss and bite him softly. "More? More of what?" I ask, smirking as I tease him. "You'll have to make it clearer than that."

"Please- more! Stick it in more. Fuck me. Please!"

I grin and tighten my grip on the dildo. My lips hovering over his, tasting his breath, I say, "Only because you said please."

I slam the dildo all the way inside of him. His scream is deafeningly loud. I almost cum right there.

**If you let me have my way, I swear I'll tear you apart **

-end part four

The longest part by far... I really didn't want to cut out anything here, and it is probably too long, but... Well, at least we've achieved penetration! (of some kind...)

Again, thank you all for your support. I hope you enjoyed it. Let's keep our fingers crossed on the next part getting finished in the near future. I really wanted to have the whole thing finished before posting this part, but you guys have been very good, and I figured that I might as well share what I've got so far.

Please tell me what you think. Your reviews are like fuel for me, so keep the train going!

masamune reforged


	5. Chapter 5

Sin or spend the night all alone

Masamune Reforged

a Death Note- Mello x Matt fanfic

Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note, nor Matt or Mello. The quoted song is "Me vs. Maradona vs. Elvis" by Brand New. I know, a crazy name for a song like this... I don't even like that band; but this song is absolutely awesome and made me write this.

Warnings: Yaoi (Mello x Matt, graphic, kinky lemon: bondage, rough S&M), angst, cursing, alcohol. Also, unsafe sex is stupid sex, and a needless gamble with your life and the person you are with.

Author's Note: I take some liberties here with these two's pasts. All I know officially about it is that they were both potential successors to L at the same Wammy's house. I assume they knew each other when they were younger, but I do _not_ have them being close childhood buddies.

For: Everyone who has encouraged me to stick with this thing. I hope you enjoy it

Song lyrics are in **~~bold~~**

He is screaming, writhing, his hips trembling, shakes and shocks jerking his legs wildly, biting his already bruised lips, squeezing his eyes shut. Somewhere deep far inside of him the very tip of the long, seven inch dildo is resting up against inner walls I've just mercilessly breached. Matt stops biting his lips, opening those beautiful brown eyes of his and, with short puffs of breaths that move his whole frame, staring up at me.

"Oh my fucking god," my whore praises.

"That's right," I nod, patting his bony hips tenderly as I begin to withdraw the massive dildo. "I'm your god. And you, my little bitch slave, are going to serve me with your life." With a jerk, I pull the dildo out to just the tip.

Matt's head flies back against the bedsheets, already starting to smell like sweat, sin and sex. I hadn't allowed him nearly enough time to get used to having the long, rubber object inside of him; but, if I had, I wouldn't be getting these marvelous reactions out of him now, would I?

"You love it, you whore," I say simply, cramming the dildo back up inside of him with considerable effort. It goes in a bit easier this time, and once it's all the way in him, I twist it, watching him pant, moan, and squirm, on the edge of tears, on the edge of cumming. Those rubber studs are nasty.

"Fuckin' hurts!" Matt manages, although he knows that will only inspire me to go further sooner.

"That's why you love it."

I roughly pull the dildo out again. There's a long smear of blood on the top few inches, and it's all I can do to resist pulling it out and licking it off... or making Matt lick it off...

This time, when I shove the dildo back in, Matt's breath comes out in a purely wanton moan. His face is still twisted up in confrontation of the pain, but his eyes lust for me to push him farther. The very first bead of pre-cum appears at the top of his rock hard sex. More wells up with each thrust of the dildo, quickly turning Matt's virgin ass into something more resembling a well spaded hole.

"Look at you," I smack Matt's sexy bubble butt with an open palm, letting my finger nails rake across the pale white flesh. "Just like a little girl. You've secretly been craving someone to rip your hungry little pussy open, haven't you?"

"Fuh– fuh–" he pants at first. "Yes, yesss~," Matt answers truthfully, drolling out the long, hissing sound as I start fucking him in earnest with the dildo.

"Tell me how much you like it," I encourage him. I want to hear him say it.

Matt doesn't answer until I give his buns another firm smack, hissing, "I love it. I fucking love—uh—being your slut. Oh my god."

I slap him across the ass harder, the pale skin going red from the sting. "You're not my slut until _I _actually fuck you. And that's what you want, isn't it? You won't be satisfied with just the dildo, will you?"

"N–no," Matt gasps, pre-cum drooling down his erection now. "I want you. I want _you_."

Smiling deviously, I pull out the dildo, sending Matt's eyes flashing in protest. I smack him on the ass again, pushing him so that he'll know I want him to get up. He's looking flustered and frustrated right now, his red hair falling in front of his face and his cheeks flush like where I've slapped him on the ass. But he gets to his knees, and, when beckoned, stands.

"I want you to show me that you want me." I lead him over to the closet. I pull out what I'd been searching for before, a heavy black stand less than half a foot high, entirely metal. Sticking out of the stand is a huge rubber vibrator. Matt's eyes widen. It's far bigger than the dildo I've just fucked him with, especially its girth. I place the vibrator stand on the floor, flipping a switch on the back that makes it start to hum and buzz.

"It's just about the same size I am," I take my sex in hand, shaking it at him. "If you can't take it, there's no way you'll be able to take me either."

Matt races to answer the challenge, stepping forward and straddling the base, staring me in the eyes while he begins to squat down onto the rigid, artificial length. He boldly tries to impale himself on it all at once. What a beautiful fool.

"AGGH!" he cries out delightfully, defiance suddenly lost, boldness instantly regretted. The wide, fat head of the vibrator is sunk up into his hole, but the equally thick mast of it still remains outside, between Matt's shaking legs. Not backing off at all, Matt bites his lip and again tries to push himself further down onto the sex toy, spearing himself on the barbaric thing even though it's clearly agony.

He bites his lip so that it bleeds.

But the agony clearly is something Matt enjoys as much as he suffers. He wriggles his hips, pants down several ragged breaths, and continues to work himself down the pole. His cock, not fully erect now, but still slightly swollen in lust, leaks a string of pre-cum. Something like a drunken mist clouds his brown eyes as, slowly but surely, inch after painstaking inch of the vibrator sinks into his tight ass.

Finally, having taken the entire thing down to the very end, Matt sits heavily on the base, still grimacing as the discomfort from the almost foot long object refuses to go away. He looks up at me as if I'm supposed to congratulate him.

Instead, I ask, "Is that it?" He looks confused, then angry. "That's the best you can do? How pathetically boring. It makes me want to go to sleep."

"Fuck you," Matt spits.

"That's exactly what you're supposed to be showing me you can do," I smirk. Matt curses again, and I say, "Because, even though you seem to want to act the part, I haven't seen anything from you that's different from all the other sluts." This is not true, but I say it.

Matt seems to want to say something, but he doesn't. Instead, he lets out a long breath and slowly begins to raise himself up off the vibrator. It is streaked with blood. It's unbelievable, watching that huge thing reemerge from deep inside his lithe frame, and I can't help but stroke myself as Matt, with all sorts of grunts and gasps, lowers himself back down to the base.

Matt begins to get into it too. His sex is rock hard once again, the pre-cum oozing stronger and heavier now, particularly whenever he forces himself to stretch back down around the huge toy. He increases the pace, letting out a moan of pure pleasure now.

I decide that perhaps it's too much pleasure, and say, "Careful now. If you blow your load just from this, I don't think I'm going to have much use for you." Matt groans and starts to raise himself off of the vibrator, but I say, "Oh? Did I tell you you could stop?"

I turn the vibrator up to the second highest level. Now its buzzing is audible even when it's fully sheathed in Matt's delicious ass. Matt throws his head back in ecstasy, fucking himself on the machine with abandon. He bites his lip, but this time in an effort to stop himself from cumming.

"Just like all the other cheap whores," I say, bringing up my boot and slowly rubbing it against Matt's aching erection. "Going to cum just from having something in your hole, aren't you?" I rub my boot against him and ignore the rope of pre-slime that quickly starts coating the toe. I'll have him clean it later, with his tongue. "Does it feel that good? Do you like that huge thing mashing up your guts, you little shit? Well?"

"Yes! Yes, I'm a whore. I'm _your _whore!"

Matt's hips are on autopilot now, bucking up and down. He has a distant look in his eyes, and I can tell that he's going to cum very soon.

"You know what I want to see, Matt?" I ask him, leaning over him so our faces are so close that I can smell him. He opens his mouth expectantly, yearning for my kiss, fucking himself up and down on the vibrator stand with everything he's got.

"What, Mello? What is it? Anything, I'd–" Matt begins to beg.

With a vicious swing, I backhand him across the face. It's too much, too sudden for him to handle, and Matt goes toppling over, vibrator stand and all.

"I want to see you beg for it. I want to know that you want it, need it. I don't want to just hear you say it just because you want me to fuck you."

"I'm sorry," Matt blubbers, and it catches me off guard. It gets me angry. I didn't expect an apology. "I didn't mean to make you mad. I—"

I silence him with a kick to his ribs, sending him rolling. The vibrator falls out of him with a slick 'pop', and hums uselessly on the floor.

**~~Cause it's all you can be~~**

"It doesn't matter what you meant," I tell him, standing over him now. "What matters is what I want. What matters is what I mean. And, right now, I mean for you to show me why I should give you the time of day, let alone fuck your slutty ass."

Matt slowly gets up to his knees, clutching at his ribs with one hand while trying to regain his balance with the other. He looks at me with that blend of fear, desire, anger and focus that I'm beginning to grow quite fond of.

"So, Matt, tell me how you're going to show me this," I restate the challenge.

He doesn't speak for awhile, and, when he does, it's in a very soft voice at first. I almost miss it.

"Anything," is what he says.

"I'll do anything to be with you," he says more firmly now, eyes flickering with bold fire. "I don't care what it takes or how hard it is. I don't care how much it hurts or even if it fucking kills me. I want to be with you. I want to be the one to show you that you're not alone, that you don't have to be, at least."

He...

I still manage to wear my demanding mask and say, "And what do you mean by anything?"

"Anything," Matt states again, standing up now even though he's still weak from the unfolding ordeal. "Whip me. Beat me. Burn me. Cut me. Treat me like scum. Make me kill. Fuck me whatever way you damn well please. I don't care. Anything," he repeats, firmer than ever. "I don't care what it is. I'll do it. For you."

"Are you trying to say that you love me?" I say. The scorn is a reaction, the phrase one of my textbook responses. But, strangely, I immediately know this is not the same situation as with all the others. This time, this one, doesn't merit that mocking question. I regret my words.

Matt says nothing.

"And what if you do?" Too proud to take back my words, I force myself to advance on them instead. "Will just that be enough, you think, to win me?"

Matt doesn't respond at first. Instead, he walks over towards me, getting down on his knees at my feet. I look at him, but I can't figure out the feelings going on inside me. And, I don't have to, as Matt instead says, "I don't know."

"Wait here," I tell him.

He does, and, when I return a minute later, has not moved a muscle.

I dangle the leash and collar in front of him and say, "You're going to have to give up all of your humanity if you really do want this. There's no promises here, no safe word, no control." Even I am not in control. "Do you understand?"

Matt nods his head silently. I clasp the collar around his neck, a pure black band with no slack at all.

I finger the leash and motion towards the door. "This way, back to the kitchen."

Matt nods and begins to get up from his knees.

In a flash of limbs and with a strangled cry, Matt is suddenly back down on the carpet again, right at my feet. I hold the leash high overhead in a fist, glaring down at him.

"On all fours," I command.

Matt nods. I kick him again, although not hard enough to send him sprawling.

"Not like that, stupid. Bark once if you understand, understand?" There is no need to set rules about if he doesn't understand, or if he disagrees. There is no 'no'.

"Now, come," I give the leash a tug and begin walking Matt toward the bedroom door. I decide to take him on a little test run, circling the wide bedroom once to get him used to this. He follows dutifully, crawling on all fours, head bowed, fiery red hair obscuring his face. I can tell the humiliation is running through him, and my cock twitches at knowing that even this sex-crazed masochist has some boundaries left I can violate.

At the door, Matt makes another mistake. While I pause, he continues forward. I let him pass me by just a nose, his hand touching the wooden floor of the hallway. Then I snatch the leash up, jerking him back viciously, throwing him onto his back. He is coughing raggedly. There is blood visible at his hole.

Matt takes too long to get back up. So I take my boot and raise up his face with it. "Master leads. Always," I say simply, tugging the leash up again. It's beginning to make a nasty mark around his neck.

Matt nods. He does not bark once.

I pull the leash down and forward. I choke up on it, pulling it down and forward again, carrying Matt's head in the same direction, right down into the carpet at the edge of the door. I hiss and lean forward, grabbing a clump of his hair with the same hand holding the leash, yanking him back by it until I'm looking into his frightened eyes.

"I must be going crazy," I say. "Did I just see my pet _nod _at me?" Matt doesn't fall for the trick question, refuses to shake his head in response. "Of course I didn't," I break into a mock smile. "Well then, shall we continue?"

This time he pleases me. Matt barks. It's a convincing, loud 'ruff', and it makes me smile in genuine amusement.

We get to the kitchen without any more problems, and Matt barks and sits down on his haunches when I give him the command to 'sit'. I press the ice dispenser, and the frozen cubes, with nothing to catch them, fall haphazardly onto the kitchen floor. I kneel down on the floor as well, facing him.

Matt looks slightly puzzled at this until I say, "Suck me with your ass up in the air. Same as last time." At that, his eyes focus with a look of comprehending terror at the ice cubes, already beginning to melt on the tile floor. But a rough tug of his leash has him barking in the affirmative and assuming the position soon enough.

His mouth is heavenly on my sex, bringing me back to full swell quickly.

"Lift that ass higher," I tell him. Reaching down, I pick up one of the ice cubes and roll it in my hands, the cold and wetness clinging to my skin. Matt raises his hips, but obviously can't bark in response with my length embedded in his face.

I drag the ice cube slowly down the ridge of Matt's spine, feeling him shiver slightly as I reach the base. Fingering the nearly gone ice cube, I spread him with my other hand and feed it into his newly stretched crevasse. It goes in easily. Matt moans heavily around my cock.

I repeat the process, dragging cube after cube over his back, only to feed it into his ass, impossibly hot like a furnace. A small drip of bloody water begins to flow out of Matt, and he's shivering and shaking from the combination of the extreme temperatures and the uncomfortable position he's in.

When all of the ice cubes are melted away inside of Matt's burning heat, I sit back and let him deep throat me for a moment. I pull the leash gently, indicating that I want him to stop, and he does.

I push him backwards now, sending him onto his back on the cold tile, his legs splayed wide open, completely naked, blood smeared over his sexy frame, already sporting several black and blue areas.

Gripping my slick cock, I aim it down and at Matt's waiting pucker. A ray of hope shimmers in his eyes, and he lets out a long breath in expectation. I place the bulbous head, slick with his spit, at the entrance and push very gently. Matt's eyes shut...

Pushing so gently, the flare of my impressive sex simply glides up and over, rubbing Matt's rosebud opening. He might be stretched a bit from the vibrator, but it won't be going in unless _I _want it to.

Looking down into Matt's face as his eyes re-open, I decide it'll be fun to tease him a bit.

"No, please," Matt is so sex crazed he forgets not to speak. "Please, I need it."

"You need what?" I tease, pushing against him gently. Again, just not hard enough.

"You! Your dick! Please! I need you inside of me."

I slap my cock against his hole, continuing the tease. "Did _you_ just tell me what you need?"

"No–yes... I mean..." He barks. "I'm sorry– Just– _Please_! I—"

I silence him with a heavy slap across the cheek. But Matt is beyond warning now. He's lost control, completely drowned in his lust. He bucks his hips in a futile effort to impale himself on my shaft, continues to beg, "Fuck me! Please, Mello, fuck me! Please! For the love of god."

"I didn't say you could speak, did I?" I slap him again and again. But there's no stopping him now. He's gone, and absorbs the slaps without any change. He continues to slur filthy encouragement, wanton beggar's cries. _"Did I?!?"_ I yell, my knuckles beginning that familiar dull ache as I keep backhanding him, harder and more frequently now.

"Mello, I'm sorry— I– But– Please! I need– I—"

"I didn't give you permission to speak!" I want to punch him now, but know it'll surely knock him gone, Matt continues to beg for me to enter him, and I know my slaps are getting useless. I stop hitting him and straighten up slightly. "Well..." I begin. On the counter, I see the whip. "If you're going to speak," I grab it, "then I want to hear you scream!"

I bring the whip down. It connects on the right side of Matt's chest, catching the sensitive, already brutalized flesh of his nipple. He is beyond words now, and I'm rewarded with a surprised scream instead. I bring the whip up.

"And don't disappoint me, Mail." I bring the whip down.

It lands on his stomach, welting red. It lands on his face, opening a new cut. It lands on his shoulders, his arms, his neck, his sides. I flog him with sharp, quick strokes, all the time relishing in his shouts, half pain, half excitement now.

He looks up at me with bleary, out of focus brown eyes.

And I lose control, and the next thing I know, I'm inside of him, his heat like a fire encasing my bare flesh, his muscles gripping me fast.

I stare into his eyes as if I were intoxicated by them.

**~~You're a drunk ~~**

For one, long, meaningless moment, Matt's eyes are wide open. Still, auburn liquid trapped in two perfect circles, those eyes are seeing me, a slightly scrawny, blond monster covered with scars, but they are not focused me. He might as well be blind in this moment, because although the image will stay with him forever, it will be chained at the bottom of the cavernous, inaccessible depths of his soul. He is not seeing; he is merely feeling. But what I am seeing, what I am looking at as I stare down at him, red hair matted haphazardly to his forehead, blood and sweat streaking his alabaster flesh, what I am seeing is what he is feeling.

It is uncomprehending horror, the horror of being aware that something is happening, something enormously traumatic and, in this case, painful. It is horrifying to come to know the extent of this suffering, and it is pure fear; blind, bound and brainless. It is pain so fierce it cannot be fully digested in one moment. And that is why the moment is meaningless.

But, like all moments, this too passes. Matt's eyes slam shut, his mouth parts in a grotesque grimace.

He screams.

I pull out of him, only to thrust back in the next instant. He is boiling and tight, and it takes all the effort I can muster to rip his insides apart with my cock. The blood is hot, there is enough flowing from his ravaged hole to pass as an aid. He will need a doctor after this is over, and, even if he gets one, too much more might break him for good anyway. I do not slow down. I fuck him with long, deep, ravenous thrusts.

From the empty, nonsensical throes of sound that are Matt's screams comes a word. "Yes."

I pause momentarily, but there it is again, "Yes." Amid tears and the flow of blood abandoning his body. "Yes. Yes." Amid insufferable pain. "Yes, please." Amid tattered breaths and wordless noises. "Uhn, yes. Yes."

There is nothing I can do but thrust my hips down and forward, balancing on my toes, holding myself up with hands planted on either side of his chest, just an animal with one base, burning desire, I bury myself inside of him.

"It hurts."

I bury myself inside of him.

"Please."

I bury myself inside of him.

"More."

Buried inside of him, I freeze.

"More!"

I am giving as much of myself as I absolutely can.

There is no more.

Matt's eyes fly open. Twisting his body beneath me, he snarls and lets out a moan, then begins,

"Mo—"

And he freezes too. There is a look of stumbling comprehension, then horror, a different breed of it, a purely human incarnation of fear. He squints and looks away, revulsion, disgust, hate pouring out of his expression. It is this kind of fear.

A wave crashes through me and I am falling through the center of the Earth. The descent lasts only a moment. My consciousness lands in the lake of fire and my body shakes with terrific heat.

With one hand, I grab the side of his head and make him face me. With the other I raise the whip.

He looks at me with that fear painted on his face. It is a fear that brings me no joy.

I ask him, "Why?" and strike him with the whip as hard as I can.

He howls, tries to turn away. "Why are you scared?" I strike him again. He screams. "Why?" I strike him again. He cries out. "Didn't you want this?" Again I whip him, again he jerks and lets out a noise like a lamb assailed by hungry wolves. "What." Again. "Are you." Again. "Scared of!?" Again.

I thrust into him with each lash of the whip, producing new marks on his flesh with each blow. Not like before, I whip him as hard as I can, out of control now. There will be scars, despite the close proximity limiting how much damage I can inflict. He is convulsing around my cock and I am again thrusting into him.

"Why?"

His body answers only with tremors and shakes.

I feel empty and desperate inside, close to climax and lost in misery. I try to destroy his body, his chest and shoulders lined with red scrapes and bleeding cracks. I can feel his rock hard cock each time I grind mine into him.

"Why?"

His mouth answers only with screams and breaths.

I whip him and grip his neck with a choke that could kill. I am on the edge of losing myself inside of him. I feel empty and hallow inside. I have nothing except for him. And what is that?

"Why?"

His eyes answer only with that fear.

I give up. I drop the whip and bury my face in his hair. Tears come, and I let out a pathetic, strangled, choked sob. I stop thrusting into him, my cock softening quickly. I want to die.

"Why are you afraid?" I ask him one last time.

He answers. "Be..." I twitch in surprise. "Because..." It takes time for him to get even this word out, voice lost and fragile.

"Because I think I'm in love with you."

**~~And you're scared ~**

"I just..." He starts and stops. I can feel him swallow heavily. "I just hope you love me back."

Inside, something breaks open, and I cry into his hair.

**~~It's ladies night, all the girls drink for free.~~**


	6. Chapter 6

Sin or spend the night all alone

Masamune Reforged

a Death Note- Mello x Matt fanfic

Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note, nor Matt or Mello. The quoted song is "Me vs. Maradona vs. Elvis" by Brand New. I know, a crazy name for a song like this... I don't even like that band; but this song is absolutely awesome and made me write this.

Warnings: Yaoi (Mello x Matt, graphic, kinky lemon: bondage, rough S&M), angst, cursing, alcohol. Also, unsafe sex is stupid sex, and a needless gamble with your life and the person you are with.

Author's Note: I take some liberties here with these two's pasts. All I know officially about it is that they were both potential successors to L at the same Wammy's house. I assume they knew each other when they were younger, but I do _not_ have them being close childhood buddies.

For: Everyone who has encouraged me to stick with this thing. I hope you enjoy it

Song lyrics are in **~~bold~~**

Time passes. Matt coaxes me back with soft, dry kisses against my neck. I get hard again, still inside of him, and he asks me to fuck him. That's what he says, he doesn't say 'make love'. I don't believe he feels that is a thing you can consciously produce. I try my best, and as Matt encourages me along with wanton words, I regain my composure. I drag my fingernails over his nipples when he asks me to. I bite him when he cries out for me to. I smack him on every inch of his body and twist him into a million positions. I grab the pan of boiling wax and empty it on his chest. He goes rigid, clenching and squirming. We both reach the summit's edge and heedlessly plummet over it.

Sunlight cascades over our naked bodies.

**~~I will lie awake~~**

"I don't get it," Matt whispers. "I'm so confused and... But I feel happy." He laughs. "For the first time in my life, I feel happy."

We are on the other side of the abyss, but everything is still the same.

"It doesn't matter what _you _feel." I push him off of me and turn away.

**~~Lie for fun and fake the way I hold you~~**

"If you want to stay with me, this is how it's going to be. You are just a tool, another thing I have. You are important only so long as you can live for me. That's all I want from you."

We have born our souls to each other, but the people we are are still the same.

"That's enough for me." Matt smiles.

**~~Let you fall for every empty word I say.~~**

We are at the beginning.

After so much, after going so far, here we are, the same as we started.

After so much, after giving so much, here we are, and it all seems like so much of the same.

**~~I will lie awake~~**

"Go shower and clean yourself up. You smell like shit."

I push him roughly away. He stands on weak legs.

**~~Lie for fun and fake the way I hold you~~**

"Sure thing... boss."

He begins to walk away.

**~~Let you fall for every empty word I say.~~**

At the far, far, filthy, ransacked, lightless little corner of myself, back near the gates that lead down to my memories and the demon infested workings of my mind. At the far back, where the good is dead, back near the font of salvation where, only when I believe no one is looking, I empty my burden, terrified of taking on some new form, some new life. Where the decay stinks and I can almost hear the lingering echo of the pitiful thing screaming out from behind the gates while I cut it—cut myself—to pieces one by one.

I live back here because it's the only place I'm comfortable. I live here because I can't face the prospect of salvation, because I can't save my pitiful self, screaming in the darkness of my soul. I live back here because I can stare out at the world and it doesn't get a chance to stare back at me.

I consume my own poisoned thoughts and watch the red-head walk towards the shower.

**~~I will lie awake~~**

"I can never love you, you know."

It is a sad and terrible place to be.

**~~Lie for fun and fake the way I hold you~~**

"That... that's okay..."

**~~Let you fall for every empty word I say.~~**

But at least I am not there by myself.

-end

"Sin or spend the night all alone"

Author Comment:

It has been awhile, hasn't it?

There was a time when I was sure I would never finish this thing. I honestly care next to nothing for Death Note, and this twisted version of the characters is something so drenched in the colors of my own demons that it can no way be considered 'in character'. When I came to a complete halt on this, I decided there was nothing that could make me want to do it. The only reason I have dragged myself up out of the hole of idleness to hack and stumble to a conclusion is the feedback, reviews, and e-mails I have gotten from people who wanted to see this thing finished.

Thank you so much. I hope you enjoyed it.

Author Notes:

The song by Brand New is actually titled "Me vs Maradona vs Elvis"

Mello sometimes uses Matt's real name, "Mail".

Matt does not use Mello's name because he has forgotten it, but he has recognized who Mello is. In fact, I half suspect he is not at that bar by accident at all.

I originally included Mello calling a doctor to come and check on Matt, who would have some serious internal issues considering the circus-size of the dildos and cock in this one.

I did not originally have Mello crying. Part of me wonders if that was the right thing to do. I felt that he had to show something, considering I always intended to end the story with him being cold to Matt, but somehow...

I originally had planned to fully narrate the end of the sex scene at the beginning of this chapter (with the wax and all) as the end of the previous chapter, but I thought Mello's breakdown was a better note to end it on, as my original plan was to write sex-based story, and in the end it is not just that, I hope.


End file.
